


The One With the Misplaced Socks

by sincereously



Category: Friends (TV)
Genre: Multi, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28704552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincereously/pseuds/sincereously
Summary: The trouble with everything that had happened, Monica thought, was that their lives had always blended together too easily.
Relationships: Chandler Bing/Monica Geller/Joey Tribbiani
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17
Collections: Holly Poly 2020





	The One With the Misplaced Socks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [humanveil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/gifts).



The trouble with everything that had happened, Monica thought, was that their lives had always blended together too easily.

For years it hadn't been that much of a problem, a benefit really, by Monica's analysis. Sure, there were the late-night invasions and constantly-disappearing snacks and the one time she and Rachel had flat-out lost the apartment on a stupid inability to remember Chandler's stupid job. There had also been curling up together under blankets on cold nights and flicking popcorn at each other while they dubbed over terrible TV shows with their own dialogue, the times when Chandler had given her tight hugs and Joey had managed to talk her into keeping hope that she'd find her dream family someday. It felt natural to be together, to have their lives running along the same current if not overflowing into each other. The crushes she'd had on Chandler in college and Joey when he first moved in were only half-remembered dreams, and the time Joey and Chandler had kissed at midnight on New Year's was only an idle thought she'd privately smiled at from time to time.

But all that had been before London - before she'd come to Chandler and Joey's room in inebriated despair, before they'd all three drunk more toasts to Monica's loneliness and Joey's striking out with the bridesmaid while Chandler joked that Ross could dig up fossils of the last time he'd ever had a date, before they'd all tumbled together into their hotel bed and never quite seemed to get out of it even after they'd come back to New York. Now, the neat lines she'd drawn for herself and her friends had tangled up like knitting yarn, things no longer quite getting back in their proper places.

Now, she had to think fast when Rachel glanced at her curiously from across the sofa and asked, "What's with the socks? I've never seen those before."

The socks in question were mismatched, which in itself probably would have been enough to pique Rachel's curiosity. The left was a cheerful blue with little white ducks swimming across it - Chandler's, a birthday gift from Joey that they'd only recently convinced Chandler to actually wear and which he'd thrown at both of them across her bed while they'd laughed. The right was black with white ribbing across the toes - Joey's, caught up when she'd gathered up her clothes to rush back from the rooftop to her apartment last night before Rachel could get home and notice that she was gone.

It's not like she meant to _keep_ them, all right, she just wanted to give them multiple thorough washes and return them to their rightful owners. Thing was, the fact that they had ended up on her feet (why did she do that? why did she think that was a good idea?) and not in the drawer filled her with a surge of concern. Monica swept her feet into a pair of slippers sitting beside the chair, and for good measure swept her feet up under her. "Oh, these? Nothing special. Just, uh, cold feet."

* * *

They'd all three sworn it wouldn't happen again after London. Monica was still trying to count the number of times that it had happened when she eased open the door to their apartment that night. She found that she couldn't remember anymore, and it disturbed her how little that knowledge disturbed her.

Usually she found the guys in their recliners, but the apartment was dark and she could hear Joey's snoring coming from Chandler's room. She slipped through the apartment, trying her best not to trip over anything, and lightly drew her knuckles against Chandler's door, more a greeting than asking permission to enter.

"Hey," Chandler said as she came into the room. Joey was sprawled flat on his back, shirtless but still mostly huddled under the blanket. Chandler was leaning back against the headboard in dark blue boxers and a Steve Miller Band T-shirt, his eyes half-closed and his cheeks slightly flushed.

"Hey," Monica whispered back. Chandler shifted over to his right, his hip coming flush with Joey's shoulder, and Monica squeezed into the space on Chandler's other side and nestled against his chest.

"Don't know if we'll be very entertaining tonight," Chandler said, leaning his head against hers.

"It's all right," Monica said absently. She resisted to urge to ask if they'd already had their _entertainment_ for the night - they could do whatever they want, it's not like any of them had made any commitments to each other, and besides, she'd definitely seen firsthand how entertaining the new aspects of their relationship could be. She just had to keep reminding herself of all that.

Instead, she ran her hand along the sleeve of his T-shirt. It had apparently been washed to within an inch of its life, the logo on the front cracking, the black fabric soft and stretched and, wait. "Isn't this Joey's?"

Chandler shrugged and blew out a breath. "He's already worn literally everything I own. This is just payback."

Maybe it was, but Monica felt another line crossed, another knot binding them all together. Her feet felt hot in her _(their)_ socks.

"What are we doing?" The words spilled out of her without even thinking, and she couldn't help but internally groan at the way Chandler tensed beneath her hands. _C'mon,_ she berated herself, _you know better than this._

"Um. I'm not an expert, but it looks like Joey's sleeping and I'm -"

"Joey's not sleeping," Joey mumbled, turning over onto his side and blearily looking up at the both of them.

"One of the best acting performances of your career, then," Chandler said, poking Joey under the blanket with his foot.

Joey lightly knocked a fist against Chandler's thigh, but he was smiling. Something in Monica's heart ached at that, and that, she figured, was another warning sign.

"Don't worry about it, then," Monica said breezily.

Chandler relaxed a little, but not as much as she thought he would. "Great. Perfect. As long as we're all good here, of course."

"I mean, if _you're_ not doing well -"

"Who said I wasn't doing well? I'm great. You're great. He's great. Everything's great. Great doesn't sound like a word anymore."

They both fell silent. Joey had been watching them both go back and forth like a tennis match, but then he snorted into the quietness.

"You're both thinking too hard about it," Joey said. "I mean, hey, look at me. I don't think at all and I'm having a good time." He reached over past Chandler and squeezed Monica's hand. "Can't we keep just doing this for a while?"

Monica had never liked breaking rules, especially not ones she'd set for herself. But now, in the warmth and the stillness of the night, with them both so close to her, it felt like maybe they could rewrite the rules together. "Sure."

"Yeah, I think so," Chandler said, curling his hands tighter around them both. Then he looked down and quirked an eyebrow. "Isn't that my sock?"

"One of them is," Joey said. "I was wondering where that went."

"You want them back?" Monica asked, pulling her feet up and making to tug the socks off. The question was half-challenge, half-joke, and she wasn't sure whether or not she wanted either of them to take her up on it.

"Nah," Joey said as Chandler pushed her hand away from her foot, "they look better on you."


End file.
